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His name is Apollo Justice, and he's fine.
(He's not fine. Honestly, his therapist has been getting on his ass lately about how yelling that he's fine does not necessarily equate being fine, and more often than not means the opposite. And he has a point, but. Still.)
(He's not fine, but he has to be.)
His name is Apollo Justice, and he will be fine, just as soon as he can stop crying in a locked bathroom stall somewhere in the High Court of Khura'in. He shouldn't be waiting in here, for the impromptu recess to be over. Honestly, he might have a little trouble finding his way back, now that he thinks about it, he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to where he was going.
But. But.
Dhurke...
Dhurke is...
God. He'd only just gotten over Clay, and now... he'd only just gotten his dad back. He'd only just barely started acknowledging him as his dad again, and... he's been dead. The whole time, he's been dead, locked away in his wife’s empty coffin and if that isn’t even more fucked up.
Sitting fully clothed on the toilet seat, Apollo cradles his head in his hands and sobs. At this point, he almost wishes Dhurke had killed Inga, if only so he would have gotten vengeance for... well, himself. Himself, and all those innocent people the so-called Minister of Justice had killed. It wouldn't have been so strange if Amara really had killed Inga, either.
But... now, he's almost certain that Ga'ran—as in, the goddamn queen of Khura'in Ga'ran, and a genuinely fucking terrifying prosecutor Ga'ran—is the one who murdered her own husband. More than that, she had her own damn sister shot. In the middle of the fucking courtroom.
What if she's behind... everything? It's a terrifying thought. But it could very well be real. If it is, and if Apollo manages to prove it, it could change... everything. It would also very likely destabilize the entire fucking country, but it isn't like Ga'ran didn't already do that with her stupid fucking Defense Culpability Act.
He's angry, sure. But he's also fucking crushed. He didn't want to be right. God, he... he would have given nearly anything to not be right, just that once. Tears stream down his face.
His name is Apollo Justice, and he's not fine. He hasn't been fine since he saw that photo. Honestly, it was a struggle not to break down entirely in the middle of the courtroom. Now that there's no one here to see him... now, there's nothing stopping him from letting it all out.
Showing your emotions is good, his therapist said.
Crying isn't a sign of weakness, it's cathartic and will help you more than hurt you, his therapist said.
Either his therapist was fucking lying to him, or Apollo's brain just doesn't fucking work the same way most people's do, because if anything he feels even worse, now. There's still a horrible pit in his stomach, because—not matter how much he cries, no matter much he screams and wails and sobs—it's not bringing Dhurke back.
And sure, Mr. Wright's... friend? Sister? Maya could channel him again but it wouldn't be the same. Apollo would know, this time.
He'd just gotten him back. He’d only just gotten him back.
But he hadn't really at all. He'd already been fucking dead, and he... why couldn't he have said something? Anything?
Would Apollo have listened if he had?
Someone knocks on the door, and Apollo freezes. He wipes his eyes, whispers I'mfineI'mfineI'mfine on instinct (it doesn't help, of course it doesn’t) and then raises his voice to say, "Sorry, I-I'll be out in a minute."
His voice cracks, and he fucking hates it.
(Why...?)
"Take all the time you need," says whoever's on the other side, slightly muffled—except that isn't a whoever. Apollo is nearly certain that's Mr. Wright, and he's... god, he's the last person he wants to see right now. "Hey... Apollo? That is you in there, right?"
He'll get more worried if he doesn't say anything. So Apollo takes a deep, shaky breath and says, "Yeah. Mr. Wright?"
"Yep." Mr. Wright pauses. "I'm not gonna ask you if you're alright, because nobody would be after something like that, and I know you well enough to say that you'd just say you're fine when you're anything but."
"How—" Apollo hiccups. Fuck. "H-How do you know I'm not fine?"
"...kid, I have eyes, and I saw the look on your face when you ran to the bathroom. Trust me. You're not fine."
"Fine, okay?! I'm not okay." Apollo gets up off the toilet and stares himself in the mirror. His bangs have fallen down into his face, and no amount of smoothing them back up works. He needs more hair gel. He does not have more hair gel anywhere near the courthouse. "What does it matter? We're going to have to get back in there in a few minutes, anyway."
"Not as soon as you might think."
"W-What do you mean?!"
"I'd guess we have at least an hour. Assuming that Ga'ran doesn't twist the judge's arm into extending the trial to a second day, which... oh, fuck, they don't have the three day rule here, do they?" Mr. Wright falls silent for a moment. "Okayyy, hopefully that won't be an issue, we've got enough stacked against us as is. You want to talk about it?"
"She's a bitch," Apollo says automatically.
"...agreed, but I meant about... Dhurke."
"Oh." Apollo stares into the mirror. His eyes are red and puffy. He splashes some water into them, and that makes it a little better. "Kind of. I... I w-want to, but all I can think about is... h-him... l-lying there... for days-! And nobody e-even knew..."
"Wish I didn't know how that went. I wish you didn't, either." Mr. Wright pauses. "He was a defense attorney, before the DC Act?"
Apollo nods, before he remembers Mr. Wright can't see him. "I-I never saw him in court. Obviously. I was an actual baby when the DC Act was enacted. B-But... Datz and the others, they all told me he was one of the best."
"Yeah, I got that too. I... would have liked to know him better."
"M-Me too." Apollo chokes down a sob. "I hadn't even seen him in s-so long, and..."
"And he was already..."
"Yeah."
"That's..." Mr. Wright sighs. "This is going to sound a little weird, but... you think you could come out for a second?"
"I'm gay," Apollo says automatically.
"So am I, you're not special. Well... bi, but that's besides the point. Where was I... oh. Yeah. Listen, if you don't feel like you can come out yet, that's fine. Take all the time you need. But... if you could come out for just a moment, or—hell, I can come in for a second. You just... really, really sound like you need a hug."
Apollo looks himself in the red, puffy eyes again, and makes a decision. "G-Give me a second."
By the time he opens the door, he looks at least a little more like an actual lawyer and a little less like the heartbroken little boy he feels quite similar to right now. Mr. Wright's waiting for him, leaning up against the wall next to the door.
"I..." Apollo lets the bathroom door close behind him and—hiccups. "I don't think I-I'm fine."
Mr. Wright's gaze softens. "How could you be, after that? C'mere. I've been told I give very good hugs."
Whoever told Mr. Wright that wasn't fucking lying. He does give good hugs, and... fuck, when even was the last time Apollo was hugged like this? Trucy gives quick little side-hugs, and probably would give bigger hugs if Apollo ever let her know he wanted one. Clay gave pretty good hugs, too, but they were always fast and on the move, just like him.
Klavier gives great hugs, but Klavier is on the other side of the goddamn world, and his hugs are different. Not a bad different, just... different.
The last time he's been hugged like this... might have been when he was nine.
Dhurke gave really good hugs too, and it's that thought that makes Apollo break down completely. Mr. Wright rubs circles into his back even as he sobs, and sobs.
"Let it all out, kid," Mr. Wright says.
"T-Thanks, Dad," Apollo says before he can stop himself.
He freezes.
Mr. Wright freezes.
"Fuck," Apollo says. He backs away quickly, glancing at the bathroom door. If he's fast, maybe he can make it in and lock the door behind him. "I-I... I didn't mean..."
"Apollo," Mr. Wright says, and he stops in his tracks. He can't meet Mr. Wright's eyes. "Fuck, how do I put this... kid, you're fine. You want to call me Dad, you're welcome to, I. I guess?? You... see me as a father figure?"
"Um. K-Kind of?" Apollo grins nervously. "Sorry. This is a really, really bad time, but, um. Yes. I think I’d rather stick with calling you Mr. Wright for now, if that’s alright, but, um. Yeah. You, uh... kind of reminded me of Dhurke from the start."
"From the... start?" Mr. Wright echoes. He raises a hand to rub at his jaw. "Is that part of why you punched me back then? I mean, I deserved it, but—"
"Yeah. Y-Yeah, it is. Partially."
"Cool. Well, uh..." Mr. Wright pats him on the shoulder. "I'm honored. And, uh... honestly, Trucy pretty much sees you as a brother already anyway, so..."
"Yeah, she's... she's a good kid."
Mr. Wright smiles absently. "Yeah. Let's... get back to the others, then?"
Apollo nods. "Yeah. And, um... thanks. Really."
His name is Apollo Justice, and he's... still not entirely fine. But he's definitely doing a lot better, to the point where yelling I'M FINE might not actually be, entirely, a lie. Maybe his therapist had a point about talking to other people.
(Thanks... Dad? Nah, that doesn't sound quite right. He'll work on it.)